Batteries
by Melanie Rose
Summary: I used to believe that magic didn't exist, that the terrible and beautiful things I saw were just figments of my overactive imagination, but after I met Simon Lewis, the boy jet black eyes and the almost inhuman grace, I wasn't so sure. Post COFA
1. Prey

BATTERIES 01

_"All growing up means is that you realize no one will come along to fix things. No one will come along to save you."_

I used to believe that magic didn't exist, that the demons creeping out of the shadows at night weren't really there; that they were just figments of my overactive imagination. That the faeries I'd seen dancing in the forest, the moonlight illuminating their bodies; making them seem like angels and demons all at once were just the trees gliding in the wind. If someone had told me that such beings existed, back then I wouldn't have even considered the idea.

But now, after I'd met the boy with the jet black eyes and the almost inhuman grace, I'm not so sure.

He told us that he'd ended up that way from a drug problem he had over summer, that his unnaturally pale skin was merely a side effect of the vast amount of drugs he'd taken. The entire school believed him too, though I didn't.

I could always sense something that was off, like prey sensing a nearby predator and, despite his warm gaze and almost-perfect attitude; he was the predator. And from the way he would sometimes look at me, I was the prey.

It was my first day of my school, the one event that I'd been dreading for the entire summer. It wasn't that I was scared that I'd be sat alone at lunch, picking apart whatever crap the school had served that day – I'd made friends with some kids who lived down the street from me in the summer. It wasn't that I was scared that the so-called popular kids would pick on me either, I was the type that they normally didn't even bother with; I was the type who sat on the sidelines, looking in through the glass – a wallflower. But for the first few days I wouldn't be, at the start of each new lesson I'd have to endure standing at the front of the class and if the teacher's feeling particularly mean, I'd have to introduce myself too, and have all those piercing eyes of my new classmates on me. That's what I was dreading.

Thankfully, the day had seemed to glide by with an ease I hadn't expected; so far no teachers had made me introduce myself and I only had one more lesson to go with some teacher called Mr Richardson, who –according to Emily with the almost yellow eyes – was a hot _daumn _and wouldn't force me to make an idiot of myself. But that's exactly what he did.

I stepped into the classroom - I was about ten minutes due to some senior pointing me in the completely opposite direction – and like a flicker of light, thirty pairs on eyes snapped up and rested on me. I could feel their piercing eyes on me like daggers, I could feel them analysing me, and I could see girls laughing behind their hands, and I could taste their bitterness and hear their cruel whispers. I feel the colour rushing to my face as I mutter a nervous hello and rush to my seat, almost tripping over someone's outstretched leg. I'd promised myself I would leave behind the shy, nervous girl and bring forward the new, confident Lesley. So much for that.

Even though I'm sat at the back of the class and Mr Richardson is covering a topic we 'desperately need to know' I can still feel some of their eyes on me. I say feel because I daren't look up, I keep my eyes focused down at my new orange work book that rested on the graffitied desk; too scared to look up for the fear of catching someone's gaze. I don't listen to what Mr Richardson is saying, but I write anyways, pretending to take notes. I do not want to look up.

The final bell of the day screeches, causing almost the whole class to cup their hands over their ears. Emily told me they had installed a new bell system and hadn't quite got it working perfectly because some guy named Eric had wrecked the old one.

I slide book into my bag, still not daring to look up.

"Hey pretty thing." I flinch at the sound of the voice and slowly pull my eyes from my bag. A boy with startling green eyes that aren't quite warm nor welcoming is staring at me curiously. And he most certainly isn't staring at my face. "Names Eric." He pauses as if trying to add suspense. "Please let me have the pleasure of buying you a coffee." He still isn't looking at my face.

I stand there, unable to even slide my orange book in my bag. I say nothing.

He's talking to me, muttering compliments that I should find offensive, but I just stand there saying nothing –I don't even plaster a fake smile on my face or call him several colourful names.

A hand clamps on Eric's shoulder, "Dude, leave the poor girl alone."

My eyes dart to the boy standing slightly behind Eric. He was beautiful; there was no doubting that - with his dark eyes and careless brown hair curling just above his ears. He's wearing a grey iron maiden band shirt which just contrasts heavily against his pale skin and though he doesn't seem to be muscled there is an air about him that tells you he is quite strong.

The boy throws me a sympathetic look; I just look down and bite my lip in return. "Anyway, you have a girlfriend, remember?" He raises his eyebrows at Eric and chuckles, which oddly sends a chill up my spine.

And then I realise. His beauty is terrible, like that of the dancing faeries in the moonlight. And even though he's gazing at me with warm and welcome eyes, he scares me more than Eric. He sends alarm bells off in my head. He makes me want to run from this school and never come back. I notice that I still haven't slid my orange book into my bag and that instead I clutch it, holding it close to my chest as if to protect me.

When neither me nor Eric replies; Eric clearly embarrassed with an edge of annoyance from the boy's remark, and me merely stood there, clutching my book like a deer in headlights. The boy flashes a crooked smile and mutters an apology on Eric's behalf and before I know it; he's dragging Eric through the door of the classroom, leaving me alone.

I sling my bag over my shoulder, though I do not put my orange book in it, I still clutch it, afraid to let go, afraid of that boy's terrible beauty, afraid of the haunting memories he brings back, afraid of the secrets he obviously holds.

By the time I'm in the parking lot most of the students have already gone home, a few linger smoking and talking, others still kissing and saying goodbye, some waiting for another, just like Tyler is waiting for me, crap.

He's leaning against his blue truck, blonde hair tumbling over his ears; his icy blue eyes are cast to the ground and his arms are folded around his chest. As I edge closer to the car, I hear Fall Out Boy blasting out from inside - he always listens to them when he's pissed off. I run over to him as fast as my feeble legs can carry me, shouting apologies, but he's already seen me and is climbing inside. So I pull open the door and slide inside as fast as possible, I'm sure he would happily speed off without me, but I do not want to lose my ride.

And the split second I'm in; he's already speeding off, away from the school. I steal glance over at him; he's focused on the road but I can tell that if he didn't need to he would be glaring at me. I don't look at him as I put my seat belt on.

"Where the hell have you been Lesley?" He thunders as his eyes briefly flash yellow, but just as soon as the hue appeared, it had gone. I sigh; it must've been a trick of light. Tyler reaches to turn the music down so I can hear him properly, but there's no point, I can hear him clear as day. "You know I have to go visit my father before the poetry reading, and I can't be late for either of them!"

"I'm sorry." I say in a small voice. "I really am." I bite my lip, not sure what else to say.

And then we sit the rest of the journey in silence, I keep myself busy by finally putting my orange book in my bag, there's nothing to be scared of here, with Tyler, I watch as we speed by the houses, all of the colours blending together in my eyes.

Before I know it, we're outside my apartment block.

"Thanks for the ride." I mutter, getting out of the car, still not daring to look at him. "I hope your dad is ok."

"It's fine Lesley, really. I'm sorry." He presses a finger to his lips, and then I know that means he's calmed down. "Just come with me tonight, to the poetry reading. Please?"

I bite my lip.

"I really need you, what with my Dad being in hospital and all. Plus Em's busy and I don't think I can make it through one hour of Eric's poetry alone."

I sigh. "Ok."

"Thanks, pick you up at 7?"

I nod and watch as he smiles and drives away.

When Tyler and I arrive the coffee shop is almost empty, I recognise a few kids from school dotted around the room, the vast majority of then talking over steaming coffee. I see the boy from earlier talking in a hushed tone with two girls, one with fiery red hair, the other with midnight black hair whisking down her back and a boy with hair too blonde to be natural. They are all very beautiful, but not in the same way as the boy, not in a way that sends chills up my spine.

Tyler tugs on my jacket and I realise I had been staring but thankfully the boy hadn't seemed to notice. I try not to look at him as Tyler guides me to our seats.

"Who's that?" I ask, gesturing to the boy as I drop my tattered bag to the floor and sit down.

Tyler's icy blue eyes glance at the boy for a moment, he mutters something too low for my ears to hear and glances back at me, a scowl imprinted upon his features. His eyes, however, are unreadable. "Of course you'd notice him," he grunts, and jerks his head in the boy's direction, "that's Simon Lewis, you don't want anything to do with him. Messed up, he is."

I rest my chin on my hand, "I guess. He looks awfully pale."

Tyler smirks. "He had a drug problem over the summer, yet you'd think that would put girls off of him, right? It seems to have made him more attractive to them."

"He scares me in all honesty."

"Really?" Tyler's grin widens.

"Ahuh."

"You want a drink on me Lesley? It's not often I find a girl who isn't drooling over _him_."

Ignoring the way Tyler says _him_ as if it's poison, I ask for a Summer Berries smoothie, even though it is rather chilly outside.

When he disappears I sit and watch the people I recognise from my school, laughing over their coffee and then I look over to the Simon, with his hushed conversation and his hand wrapped around a hot chocolate I know he will never drink. I can't help but feel sorry for him, for some reason or other he couldn't be as happy as careless as the others, that something deep down inside of him was very, very wrong and I could see the hurt in his eyes. In that moment I wanted to go over and tell him that it's going to be ok. In that moment I forget all the fear he'd given to me. I just want him to be ok.

I watch as the blonde boy places his arm around the redhead and they share a kiss, I watch as the boy's expression falters, as the hurt glides to his face, but in the blink of an eye, it's gone again and replaced by a bemused look. The dark-haired girl is rolling her eyes, rubbing her hand up and down the boy's shoulder. She is leaning in, he tenses up. She inches closer...

"ONE GRANDE SUMMER FRUITS SMOOTHIE!" Tyler shouts, banging the smoothie down on the dimly lit table. I jerk upwards, almost knocking the table and the smoothie over.

_Good one, Lesley._

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><p><strong>Author's Note.<strong>

Now for those of you who have read Figments, this chapter has remained virtually the same, next chapter will be quite different. Please review and let me know what you guys think!


	2. The Pursuit

BATTERIES 02

_"Cause I'm a mess and you that I can't help it,_

_The drive home never seemed this long before._

_We're killing time just a little bit faster_

_And I swear we'll make it."_

He sees me. He laughs, though I don't hear it. He's walking over. I look behind me to check, to look for one last shred of hope that he's not walking over to me. There's nobody there. I turn back around. My heart is beating too fast. I can hear it. It wants to whirlwind out of my chest, away from here, away from everyone, especially from him. I cast my eyes down to my bag, my orange book still rests in there, I am tempted to pull it out in hope that it might protect me.

Tyler is looking at me, staring wide-eyed, wondering what could have possibly frightened me so much. I wonder too; what is it about this boy that petrifies me, that sends chills up my spine?

I steal a glance at his table, the redhead and blonde are still there, the black haired girl must've left. For some reason a shudder of relief washes through me. The couple are gazing into each other's eyes with expressions of nothing more than total and unconditional love. A pang of jealously stabs me in the stomach.

He is almost here now. He passes a waitress, she flashes him a smile, but he ignores it. Her skirt is far too short; her top is far too low. I feel the urge to slap her silly. But I can't. I can't move. It's as if I am glued to the chair.

"Do you want to go?" Tyler asks me. But I say nothing in return. My eyes are locked on the boy advancing towards us, though I know I am not looking at him like the redhead and the blonde were, I am looking at him which an expression filled with fear; which I cannot mask.

He is here now. I avert my eyes to the table. I focus on the wavering flame of the small candle sat in the middle of the table.

"You're the new girl, Lesley right?" I shudder at the sound of my name woven on his soft lips. I do not need to look up to know whose voice it was; though I do anyway in hope that it isn't him. But it is him. He's ditched the band tee for a lilac V-necked tee that exposes his the blades of his shoulders. I can't help but notice that the lilac hue of it blends too much into his pale skin. I look over to Tyler, he is sat back as far as he can go in his chair, arms folded glaring at the boy.

Not taking his eyes from the boy, not even blinking, he snaps, "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to apologise, Eric was being an ass today." Simon says gesturing to Eric in the corner, making out with some girl who I presume to be his girlfriend. At least, I hope she's his girlfriend. I glance back at Simon; his face masked with an innocence I know is false.

Tyler looks at me for a brief moment, and something flashes across his face as our eyes connect. "Well, _you're_ obviously bothering Lesley. I've never see her tense up like that." The glare returns to his features as his gaze shifts from me to boy. "Something _you_ want to tell me?"

Simon looks taken aback, eyes wide with shock that I know is real this time. "I didn't do anything!" He turns to me, I want to tell him that I'm sorry, that this all just a big misunderstanding, to tell him – and Tyler - that I just overreacted and to forget the whole thing. "I guess I just frightened her." But I can't, the fear overwhelms me. He just wanted to help. "I am sorry Lesley; I didn't mean to scare you. I tend to do that a lot nowadays…"

He trails off. I look him the eyes, for real this time. And I see not pain in his eyes, but complete and utter agony.

"You better hope that all you did was scare her or I'll ram a stake through your heart," Tyler snaps, and in one swift movement stations himself between me and Simon, shielding him from my view as if he were a part in a horror film Tyler didn't want me to see.

"Tyler, just forget it." I murmur, finally having plucked up the courage to say something, but it's so fragile and cracked that I doubt he'll hear it. I exhale, relieved that I was still able to speak.

By some miracle he does. When he turns around the mask of disgust has been wiped of his face and I see not possessiveness, but genuine worry for me, worry so great that it leaves me breathless. But what does he have to worry about? Sure, there was something off about Simon that terrified me to my very heart, but he wouldn't hurt me, would he? I peer around Tyler and see that Simon's gloriously inky black eyes aren't on me – or Tyler – but are gazing downwards, at the stone floor, his hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans.

"I just worry about you, Les." Tyler says, his icy blue eyes staring into my own before shifting to Simon, "I don't want you hurt." The last sentence is clearly aimed at Simon and was said so harshly that even I shrunk away from Tyler.

I notice Simon recoil away from him, too. He's still not looking up and his hands are still buried into his pockets but I see that the blue veins covered only by his sheet white skin are shaking. I gasp, Simon was trembling.

Before I even have a chance to comprehend what I was doing, I stand up. I couldn't stand back and just ignore what I saw in his eyes; nobody deserves to suffer like that. No one.

I swallow my fear and force my feet to move, I force them to carry me past Tyler who's attempting to shove me behind him with great strength. My feet feel as if they're anchors, weighing me down, preventing me from getting any closer to _him, _but he's in touching distance now. I reach out; I can only just reach his arm-

I jerk back, my body slamming against Tyler who instantly catches me; my nails dig into his skin, as if to steady me. A shiver passes through me. His skin was cold. Ice cold.

Simon's head snaps up rapidly, almost too fast. His friends are watching us; I can feel their eyes glowering in mine and Tyler's backs. I can feel their alarm. I know my mouth is hanging open in agape and I don't bother to shut it, it's too late, he's already caught my expression and his is an exact replica of mine.

He doesn't say anything, he just gazes at me, and for the first time I've seen him, he looks fragile and wild-eyed.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, rubbing my palms together even though I'm not cold. I pause for a moment to enjoy the sensation of burning in my palms. "I overreacted."

The boy breaks our gaze and reaches up to rub his forehead, revealing the corner of what looks like a black mark underneath his mass of hair which almost completely covers his forehead. His eyes focus on the floor as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

He doesn't look at me as he says, "It's fine Lesley, you did nothing wrong. I don't blame you for acting the way you did, it's understandable considering that I am-" He breaks off, his large eyes flickering above me to Tyler who still had his arms protectively around me. I know that it is not fine, that it is not okay. I find myself reaching over to touch him.

"Lesley, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Tyler thunders, shaking with rage and jerking me back. My hand hits our table and pain shoots up it. "Stay away from _it._"

I try to fight my way out Tyler's arms, but before I have a chance to, Simon's already hurrying out the cafe door, still not looking up. The bell of the cafe door rings.

I don't move as the redheaded girl pushes past me and Tyler viciously, running after the boy. I look over to the blonde-haired boy, to see if he's going too, but he doesn't. The bell rings again.

Like a flicker of a light, black tattoos appear on his skins, millions of lines, lacing in and out of each other. I know I am not imagining this. I can't be. I blink again, just to be sure. The tattoos still remain and I could swear to God that they weren't there before. I have to be imagining this. I have to. But something deep down is telling that this is very, very real. It can't be. I wish I was imagining this, I really do.

"Lesley!" He shouts, there is a cocky, almost arrogant edge to his voice, as if he expects me not to hear him. How does he know my name?

"What?" I whisper, turning my head to face him. My heart is beating rapidly.

The cocky grin is whipped off his face in a second. His eyes are wide with shock, as if I wasn't supposed to hear what he said. But why would that be? He said my name, after all. Tyler mutters an array of curses and something too low for me to hear.

And then the blonde haired boy rushes out the door, disappearing into the night, leaving me standing there, bewildered. The bell rings again.

Without a second thought, I fight my way out of Tyler's arms, catching him by surprise and darting out of the cafe, just like the boy had. I hear the bell for the final time.

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><p><strong>Author's Note.<strong>

Another quick update for you guys, now I know these first few chapters may seem rather similar to the originals but I just want to get through these parts in order to get to the super exciting stuff. Sadly, I don''t own the Mortal Instruments but I do own the plot, Leslie, Tyler and Emily. Aha,

please review and let me know what you think!


	3. Do You Feel Us Falling?

BATTERIES 03

_"I don't ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside me there'll always be the person I am tonight."_

The crisp cool air hits me the second I set foot out of the cafe; I look down the noisy street, searching for the boy, even for the girl and blonde haired boy, just for someone to tell me what the hell is going on. I can't ignore it anymore, I can't pretend what I see is just my imagination anymore, I can't keep lying to myself.

I walk down the street for a while; I wrap my arms around myself as a shiver passes through me, though this time not out of fear. I realise I have left my jacket in the cafe, I shiver again.

I pass an alleyway, from the artificial glow of the street lights I can just about make out the shadows of two people. I duck behind a corner as the voices drift into earshot, pressing my back against a brick wall.

"Simon, she's just doesn't understand, she sees what you are, not who you are. There's a difference...maybe if she got to know you..."

Are they talking about _me_?

It's the boy's voice. "Clary did you see the look on her face when I was walking towards her? Did you see the look on her face earlier at school?"

Yes, they are.

A pause. "No Simon, I didn't but she doesn't see you-"

She's cut off. "She sees me as a monster, which is exactly what she damn well should see me as."

"You're not a monster. You're not like Raphael and his clan."

A shiver passes over me.

"Yet, Clary. They've given in into their cravings, how can you know I won't do the same? How do you know that someday I won't be like them?"

"Because you're Simon," her voice breaks.

He sighs. "Sometimes I am. Other times I'm not, do you know what I wanted to do to her?" The girl, Clary doesn't reply. "I wanted to rip her throat open, spill her blood and drink it. It took everything I had to stop myself from doing it for-" he breaks off. "Now, Clary tell me I'm not a monster."

My throat closes up. I want to run, everything inside me is screaming to run away, to get away from Simon, to get away from the equally terrible and beautiful things I see, to get away from this God forsaken world.

"This is all my fault Simon-"

I don't want to hear anymore, I don't think I _can._

When I get back into the cafe, the boy from earlier, Eric is reading what I assume to be poetry I glance around, everyone appears to be either disturbed or amused but I don't listen to the poetry, I need to find Tyler.

I rush over to our table; Tyler doesn't even look up from his untouched coffee as I sit down muttering apologies.

"Tyler, I'm sorry." I'm not even shocked when no reply comes. So I merely sit there, holding back the tears that trying to escape, but I can't let them, not here, not in front of Tyler. My head falls into my hands, and I keep it there and I let the tears flow, each running down my face and then falling on to the wooden table, as if like real rain drops.

After a few minutes of listening to Eric's dreadful poetry, I pull my head out of my hands and wipe away the remaining tears, just as I do, Tyler's head snaps up, his eyes burning. He is glaring at me the same way he was at Simon; I look down as a stab of pain hits me in the stomach.

"What the hell was that all about, Lesley?" He says, banging his hands on the wooden table, knocking the small flower on it over.

"Nothing, please just forget it." I mutter, fighting back the tears. "I really don't want to talk about it, ok?"

He opens his mouth to say something, probably a sarcastic comment or something tainted with anger, but in a split-second he snaps it shut again. Instead he says, "Ok, whatever." Then mutters something about how hard it is to be my best friend. I try to block it out.

"You can't just run off like that, it isn't safe." Tyler says after what felt like hours of silence, his fierce blue eyes glowering into mine.

"I was fine," I whisper, casting my eyes down to the table in a feeble attempt to avoid his gaze. But it doesn't matter; I can still feel his eyes cutting through me like daggers. "I don't know what came over me; I guess I just needed some space."

"Lesley," he murmurs, his voice is softer now, gentler this time. I hear the table creak as he leans over and laces his hand in mine. "I don't care if you ignore every blasted thing I say after this, but I need you to listen to me just this once, okay? Lesley, look at me." A shiver runs through me as his skin brushes against mine as he props my chin up with his index finger. "Stay the hell away from Simon, he's dangerous. Those drugs did more than just make him paler," I open my mouth to say something in reply, but he merely moves his index finger to my lips, "you cannot trust him Lesley."

I need some air. I tell Tyler I need to get away from here, that I need to breathe; I tell him that I'll be waiting outside for him. After fighting off his vicious protests, I finally make it out the door.

I hear the bell ring again as I step out of the cafe, the cool air hits me like a whip this time, this time I do not fight back the tears, there's no one around and except for the cars whizzing by, carrying a large gusts of wind with them. Numerous charity shops and antique shops line the streets, this part in Brooklyn is often dead at this time of night, but I can't help but think that I'm not alone.

I shiver and realise that yet again I've left my jacket back in the café, however a small voice deep inside me murmurs, _maybe you'd be shivering whether you had the jacket or not_, I can't help but agree. There was something sinister in the way the wind was howling, the deadly silence of the street, the shadows that lurked behind the yellow light of streetlamps.

And then, in matter of seconds I'm being slammed against a wall.

"Going somewhere, Mundie?" It's the blonde-haired boy, though up close his hair seems more golden, they match his eyes – and in a way, his skin. He pulls a small knife and lets it briefly caress my throat; drops of my blood splatter the floor. "Don't move a muscle."

My entire body tenses up in fear. I can't breathe.

"I know you can see this world for what it really is. And trust me, that's not a good thing. Not if you get found out." I look him straight in the eyes; his aren't laced with tears, unlike mine. Cold air hits my neck and it begins to sting; even though the blade still rests against it.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He coos softly. I don't believe him. He still hasn't removed the blade from neck. He is looking at me curiously. I think he is expecting me to reply. But I don't. I won't. He sighs, probably figuring out that I won't reply. "Listen, you need to keep your knowledge of the Shadow World a secret. I'm probably supposed to bring you to the institute but it looks like you've managed to get on unrecognised up until now, so you should be fine."

It's real. That horrible world I've been seeing is real. Those terrible and beautiful faeries are _real_. A shiver creeps up spine. I want to scream.

"Don't scream." He says, as if he's read my mind. For all I know now he could have. "Listen to me, ok? You need to make sure you're armed at all times, take self defence lessons, don't go out at night without someone and defiantly don't go out at night without a knife." I shudder. "You know the drill, but now you need to follow it. What I'm saying is that you need to be cautious, very cautious because this world that you can see, as much as you hate to believe it, is real."

The blade is pulled from my neck; it is stained with blood, _my_ blood. But he doesn't move.

"I hope we do not meet again, Lesley." And with that he fades into the shadows.

The wind whirls around me, causing my hair to flare up in to my eyes; it makes what little trees there are, rock viciously from side to side in such a way that makes me wonder why they haven't been ripped from their sheaths yet.

I don't move. I touch my neck. Scarlet blood stains my fingers. It had happened, it was real. It wasn't my imagination. I try my best not to scream. It's all real; everything I've seen is real. I know I need to avoid Simon at all costs, I was planning to anyway but I need to be extra careful because whatever that world is, he is most defiantly a part of it.

"Hey Lesley, are you ok?" A voice says, starling me. It's Tyler. He catches my expression. I don't reply, people are starting to filter out of the coffee shop; Eric's dreadful reading must be over. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He pauses. "You're shaking. Are you cold?"

I am shaking, but it's not from the cold. But I nod anyway.

He hands me my jacket, I shrug it on. It's warm and lined with Tyler's familiar musky scent but it doesn't stop me from shaking.

"Come on, let's get you home." He whispers, wrapping his arms around me. He touches my neck. Scarlet blood now stains his fingers too. "What-"

"I really don't want to talk about it." I say in a barely audible voice, I press a finger to his lips, just in case he didn't hear. "Please, I just want to go home."

"Was it-" for a moment, I swear that his eyes flashed yellow again, but it can't have. I sigh after everything that's gone on tonight, I must be hallucinating.

He pulls my hand away from his lips, though he doesn't let go of it, instead he pulls it close to his chest, close to his heart. He holds our gaze. "Ok." Tyler whispers, his warm breath pinches at my skin, I shudder again.

I feel safer now that Tyler is here, but as he leads me to his car, I can't help but glance over my shoulder to make sure that no one's there, following me.

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><strong>Author's Note.<strong>

Hello again! I hope you guys liked this chapter! For those of you who've read Figments, this one is rather similar, but don't worry! It will get quite different in later Chapters, especially next one! Thankyou to everyone who has reviewed/favourited/added this to their alerts! Please do review and let me know what you think, as I'm always looking to improve!


	4. Hunted

**Author's Note.** Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! I really appreciate it, but please do let me know what you think as I do want to work on improving my writing!

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><p>BATTERIES 04<p>

_Cause these days are so long, and these drinks are so tall, _  
><em>And I've been spending my time counting the minutes<em>  
><em>Just to feel consistent.<em>

I look dreadful, my eyes are wild and are plastered with running mascara, my hairs a tangled mess and I'm pretty sure if I even attempted to brush it; I'd lose the hairbrush. I stare at my face, trying to keep my eyes away from my neck. I daren't look, I truly hope there's not a thin red line there because that means that last night actually happened, and it can't be. It just can't.

My eyes catch me off guard and steal a glance at my neck. It's there alright. It creeps around from the side of neck, and then I see it. Slicing through the front half of my neck, it's turned slightly upwards at the end, in a grim smile. It's laughing at me. I actually scream this time. I touch it. It stings. I know I won't be able to cover it up with foundation. I think about pretending to be ill, but I'm not that good an actor. I can't cover it up with a scarf either because it's 30 degrees outside. I stifle a scream.

Since my hair's a mess, I put it up with a clip but I let some of it escape in order the cover the scar, it doesn't work very well, though it's better than nothing at all. I sigh.

I head towards the small bathroom, when I get in there's wet towels crowding the floor, Rowan, my 19 year old brother. He's probably already out of the house now, working his _oh so amazing job_, serving food at McDonalds because that's _so_worth giving up collage for. I'll yell at him when he gets home, hopefully he won't have brought a girl home this time.

Images flash into my head as I wipe the mascara off my face, Simon looking wild-eyed and fragile, the boy blonde boy, holding a knife to my throat, Clary who I presume is the redhead, chasing after Simon and Tyler, outside the café looking confused and angry. A shiver runs up my spine, I don't think I can bare seeing Simon today, I don't think I can bare his terrible beauty, I don't think I can bare his perfect grace, I don't think I can bare his jet black eyes.

_Come on Lesley, you need to man up; you need to be stronger if you're going to survive, remember what that boy said._

And I do, vividly. I remember it as if it is happening right now, I can feel the knife against my skin, I can hear his words, I can feel the wind slashing at my face. He said I need to be armed at all times, where am I going to get a knife? Then it hits me, my Dad's dagger. He told me it had been handed down through the generations in my family, that it was well over 100 years old, but it should do.

I dart around the house, rummaging through various draws and cupboards, no sign of it. Wait, my Dad's bedside table. I dash into my Dad's bedroom. I pull open the draw of his bedside table, nearly pulling it completely out. I wrinkle my nose. His room stinks of cigarettes, I hate smokers.

I rummage around for a while, pulling out various papers and ugh, condoms. And there it is, the sunlight bouncing off it reflects back into my eyes, I squint. It's shinning and looks brand new, as if it was bought yesterday. There are no traces of finger prints on it, I pick it up and notice there's something engraved on the handle. _To_ _R. J. Harris, from your beloved father_. I feel a pinch of guilt as wrap it up in a kitchen towel and slip it into my school bag. I hope never have a chance to use it.

I look at the clock in the kitchen, it reads 8:04 – I need to hurry up. I open up a cupboard to see if there's any waffles I can eat as a dash out of the door. It's empty, damn Rowan.

In the end I just grab one of the few edible apples left, sling my bag over my shoulder and dash out the door, I know I am late and I pray that Tyler hasn't left without me. My question is instantly answered when I find myself standing outside my apartment block, no blue truck in sight, crap.

I don't even bother to look along the sidewalk for the second-hand Ford Fiesta that Rowan and I share. Walking it is.

I check my watch, 8:17 – I'm going to be late for sure and what an impression that's going to make- the new girl, late on her second day. I sigh. This is so one of those fuck my life moments, though, questionably so is my entire life. _You're so optimistic today Lesley._

Though I can't deny, that the walk is nice, it calms me down. The sun is almost blinding today, beams soar down, illuminating the darkness and shadows. I smile; the bad things only come out in the dark. For the first time since I saw _him_, I feel safe.

That is until a black mini flys around the corner and pulls up next to me. I freeze. The smile's been wiped off my features.

"Les? Chill it's me!" A familiar voice calls from inside the car, reluctantly, I peer in, through the wound down window. At the driver's seat sits a petite girl with mousey brown hair that rests in messy waves cascading down her shoulders. She grins wolfishly, stretching the freckles that are splattered over her nose and high cheekbones. "Need a ride?"

I pull the corners of my lips up as high as I can muster, which isn't much and merely nod in return. "Hey Em."

"Hey yourself!" She chirps, not noticing my unusual mood, "get in whore!"

I open the stiff door of the mini and climb in; I throw my bag into the back and before I know it, we're speeding away.

"Thanks Emily," I murmur, angling my body to face her. She doesn't reply but merely gives me a half-hearted smile in return. "I didn't see you at the coffee shop last night."

This time she doesn't even bother plaster a fake smile upon her face, but instead frowns. "Tyler and I are fighting."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's fine, well it's not," Emily mutters, her yellow eyes glassy. "It will be fine, he's just so, uptight you know?"

"It's Tyler, he always acts like he has a stick shoved up his ass."

With that she laughs, really laughs. I give her a meek smile, shocked at my comment. Ever since I moved here, I don't really feel like it's me saying all these things. It's almost as if I'm merely the puppet and someone's controlling me, forcing me to do all these things, I don't feel like _me_. I don't even really know who _me_ is anymore. I feel like I'm a shadow of a person, just the remains of someone else who took off and left.

"Holy crap Lesley!" A perky voice shouts, plunging me out of my thoughts. We're in the school car park now, in one of the spaces near the football field. And there, staring at me through her yellow-eyed gaze is Emily. She seems to have returned to her usual self. I sigh, there's no possible way I'm going to get out of this. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Jeeze Emily, you scared the crap out of me." I retort, hoping she didn't notice that I'd avoided her question.

Emily puffs, shooting a gust of air which causes her bangs to temporarily wave up and down uncontrollably. "I obviously didn't scare the crap out of you enough because you still look like crap."

_Oh Emily, you're much too nice._ The sarcastic comment rung in my head, normally I wouldn't have said such a thing, never mind thought it, but after a questionable morning I actually debated saying it to her. But then I remembered her glassy yellow eyes moment earlier and instead mutter a defeated, "Thanks Emily," instead.

The second we walk in the doors the bell screeches, signalling that first period's about to begin.

And in a matter of seconds, doors are being thrust open and what seems like millions of students are pouring out of each, making what was an empty, quiet hallway merely moments ago become a queue to get into Twilight, pushing and shoving, shouting and cursing, kissing and –a sudden spark amidst the crowd catches my attention – smoking?

I walk by Eric. He whistles at me. I run, colliding with a tall jock, he looks down at me and grumbles. I try not to scream. My head is now buzzing with unanswered questions that the smarter side of my brain prays are never answered. Is Eric like Simon? If so, _what_ are they?

I sigh. My life is spiralling out of control and there's no way to stop it.

_There is one way to stop it, to gain control..._

No. I am not going down that road again. No. I shake my head as if that dismisses the thought all together, but it doesn't. Though I really wish it did.

We pass a tall blonde girl who bumps Emily's shoulder, who, at exact same moment in time makes a sound that oddly resembles that of a snake. The girl stops dead in her tracks, and whirls around, making an unexpected gust of wind. She places her hands on her hips, thrusting glares Emily's way that I'm sure would've have made a little girl cry.

"Bitch." Barks the girl.

"Slut."

The girl grinds her teeth so hard; I swear I can hear small pieces of them falling off. "I. Am. Not. A. Slut." She takes a single footstep in our direction, her hands balling into fists.

A small grin appears on Emily's face and I can practically see the light bulb appear over the top of her head. "Oh I'm SO sorry Courtney, would whore work better for you?" She pauses as Courtney scowls; Violet presses her finger to her lips. "You know what, you're right Courtney, I think the word prostitute is the best match."

I have to make an obscene effort to hide my grin. I find myself leaning in, excited to hear Courtney's comeback.

But shamefully all she says is, "URGHHH. You'll regret that soon enough Fowler." And then marches away, literally right down the middle of the crowd that had formed to watch the catfight, apparently Emily and Courtney were no strangers when it comes to catfights with each other, and the catfights are appearing to be quite famous, especially amongst the opposite gender.

Emily, laughing so hard that there are actually tears streaming down her face, darts through the disappointed crowd (the majority of which, are boys moaning that was no slapping and hair pulling), dragging me with her, constantly muttering things like, 'I so owned her!' and, '.' I couldn't help but roll my eyes at her exceptional glee.

"-did you hear me Lesley?" I turn to stare at her, bewilderment clear on my face. She sighs and knits her eyebrows together. "We have math next, and not only the eye candy of hot _daummmn_ Mr Richards but with the incredibly sexy a la Simon and Eric."

"You didn't use French correctly then, you know." _At least I don't think so; I'd never paid any attention in French_. I point out and I give her a confused look, pretending that I don't know who Simon and Eric are. She then went into a whole speech about the top 20 'hotties' of the school and how both were on the list and reasonably high up.

She points them both out the very second we enter the classroom.

"Well, I for one don't find them that cute." I say in an almost snobbish tone that I hadn't originally intended.

Emily stops in midstride, her mouth hung in agape, her eyes wide, similar to that of someone who had just been slapped in the face. "WHAT?" She shuts her gaping mouth with her hand. "Are you lesbian or something?"

"No, I'm just-" _scared to death of them, partially Simon._I struggle to find the right words, I was never very good at being put on the spot. "You know what. If that shuts you up, yes I am a lesbian. But, just so you know, I'm not, I'm straight. Though you're welcome to think that if it shuts you up."

I smile and wander over to my seat, proud of my unexpected remark and the fact that Emily is still gaping at it.

But that smile is instantly wiped off my face when Mr Richardson announces that we have to partner up to go through last night's homework, and that my partner will be none other than Simon who I vowed I would avoid at all costs. Even though I had to agree with Emily that Mr Richardson was cute and it was only two days into the school year, I was developing a very strong hatred of Mr Richardson.


	5. Interlude I

BATTERIES 4.5

"_In the mirror of the kitchen window,_

_Blushed by leaves, I asked her not to cry."_

"Just hide it," the young woman begged, her azure eyes were lined with tears. "Please. I will pay you any amount of money I can manage, please."

The warlock sitting across from her sighed. Even though she had lived almost four times as long as the other woman, she could see by the dark crescents woven underneath her eyes and the tight lined around her lips that this woman had seen a lifetime of suffering. Possibly as much as the warlock herself; she couldn't help but have tendril of pity for the mundane as unlike her, those days were long behind the warlock now.

"I'm not refusing this due to money," the warlock replied, leaning across the dingy wooden table. They were sat in a small, candlelit café just out of the cities reaches, unknown to anyone but those who knew it was there; which made it a perfect spot for a meeting similar to the one they were having now. "I do not view this as wholly correct. There may be others of my kind that would do anything for so much a penny tossed in their direction," the woman's jerked her chin up, as if to say _I could go to them instead_, but the warlock merely grinned in return, "that is exactly why they cannot be trusted, mundane."

"But-"

"It's not moral; it's not fair on the poor girl." The warlock replied sharply, cutting her off. "One day my spell won't be able to prevent it, the power would explode out of her."

The other woman bit her chapped lip. "Yes, but I would be there to explain it to her when that happens."

The warlock regarded the other woman carefully. Her vulnerability somewhat reminded her of herself when she'd first set foot in London, those many years ago before she'd found out who –or _what_- she truly was, she was so naïve, so trustful. When the woman had called her up and demanded a meeting, explaining her situation, the warlock had been shocked at how easily she divulged such an urgent secret and how her fragile and shaking voice had brought back memories she fought so hard to forget.

"You're a mundane, you know nothing of this world, and you barely understand it. How on earth would you explain it to her? How would you train her?" The warlock exclaimed. "What if they find you? They are patient; they can wait years if they deem it necessary. You could be gone from her life before you've even had chance to blink."

"But what if they find me and see her? It just shines out of her, even when she is this young," the blonde haired woman chewed on her lip, "they'd take her too." It came out as barely a whisper.

The warlock said nothing.

"Please," the other woman urged. "I just want her to live and if they see her-" she broke off.

The warlock jerked as if the mundane had slapped her, pushing a lock of curling chestnut hair out of her eyes, she whispered, "what if you don't make it? Who will explain it to her?"

The woman clenched her jaw, "I know someone, they owe me." She remembered his icy blue eyes wide with fright as he jerked her rusty car door open and jumped in, his stern yet irresolute voice as he demanded that she drive as if hell were chasing her…

"How did you hear of me?" The warlock inquired, taking a sip of her drink.

The other woman gasped as the words jerked her back to the present and gave her a slanted smile. "The Downworld thinks highly of you, well the little I know of it does."

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint." The warlock snapped.

"Look," the vulnerability had left the mundane's voice now, "this is a better option than them finding me and realising that she isn't a normal human, with the way she is now, the way it protrudes out of her, it'll be clear as day to them."

The warlock's eyes widened at her sudden strength, at her determination. "Very well, I will help you mundane."

"Thank-"

"But please be aware," the warlock cut in, "that I cannot guarantee exactly when her powers will return, you should be safe for another twelve years, but it is vital you tell her at some point."

"Yes, I will. Thank you so much, she's just at home- don't worry it's just around the corner." The human woman spluttered.

"Home" turned out to be a dingy two story flat that was nested above a Chinese takeaway about a five minutes' walk from the café, and like the café, it had the same dead vines climbing up the bricks, the same sullen windows and looked as if it were desperately in need of some TLC.

The interior was just the same, except it had random splashes of colour in a futile attempt to make it look more appealing.

"We're moving shortly," the mundane muttered, as if reading her mind and tossed some keys into a purple vase next to the door. "Now come and meet her, she's just in the other room."

Without muttering a word, the warlock followed into a cramped bedroom. The room was practically empty aside from a mattress shoved in one corner and just below the window, a small cot.

The warlock bent over it and gasped, before taking a breath and saying, "Well we may as well close the blinds, we don't want any neighbours noticing."

The blinds poorly guarded passers by from the blue sparks erupting out of the tattered window.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note.<strong>

Sorry for the short update! This may seem to have nothing to do with the story at the moment, but it will become very important later on in the story. I'm also sorry that it took so long to update, I'm in the middle of my A Levels at the moment and they're rather difficult.

Please review and tell me what you think, I'm always looking for ways to improve!


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